" ,qj" 0' "t: :: " Yo o, 12 0 " : O: ' _< n . '0 0 , O % -. ',; . ',- to};:; , 0 0, ": '<";0, t<..2ï . <. ",J ---------- ^ .. <. .... <- -: I ... ^ .;.. .... w J .. " .,!- " :AC t'E .. . "..".." . ." ".. "t I.. o':': . .. .': .' J 0 .. .. . ..co .,.:.: \ .' . 43 " '// .. ..... ... I A Atr'tf. C E prto , . :fY}Jt "Do j)ou suppose the M ulhollands are gOZflg to ha'üe another one of those get-togethers of theirs?" her whatever they wanted. I can tell you, Doctor, one fact-" "I don't want to hear it, I don't want to hear it!" Dr. Levantes screamed. "If you want to tell me that most people are still animals, I wil1 have to agree with you, but poetry is written for better human beings, not for the rabble." "Your better human beIngs are as interested in sexual matters as the rab- ble," the woman said. "Everything you, Doctor, call culture has to do with it. What is the theatre? What do the painters paint? What do the sculp- tors sculpt? Breasts, bellies, behinds. Give this young man a choice between the most wonderful book and a volup- tuous female and you'll see what he'll choose. " "Madam, be so good as to go your way!" Dr. Levantes shouted. It had become so dark that the woman's face had turned into a bundle of shadows. Only her eyes sparkled in the wintry twilight. I wanted to say that I would choose the book rather than the female-perhaps to please Dr. Levantes-but my throat became dry and I began to sweat. The woman moved backward and hesitated. Sud- denly she ran to me and caught my .: ^ ./ <w Ø-'" (.<s. . . wrist so hard that I almost cried out in pain. "I will wait for you downstairs," she whispered, and kissed me behind my ear. She slammed the door with such strength that the windowpanes rang. Dr. Levantes called after her, "Whore! Harlot! Piece of dirt!" He shook, and said, gasping, "I don't rec- ognize my Polish Jews anymore." I HAD written a long list of ques- tions for Dr. Levantes, but as soon as I asked the first he delivered a lengthy speech. He blew the smoke of his cigar directly into my face and spoke of many things at once-Speng- ler's "Decline of the West," Bergson's "Creative Evolution," the Balfour Declaration, the Bolshevik revolution, even Einstein's theory of relativity. He again and again attacked Freud. Even thoug h steam hissed in the radiator, frost trees formed on the window- panes. I wrote down as quickly as I could the Doctor's clever words, but my brain was occupied with one thought: Would Machla Krumbein really wait for me? It was too cold for her to wait outside. As if Dr. Levantes could sense that I was thinking of her, he trIed to refute her arguments. He compared the "human affects," as Spi- noza called them, to a volcanic erup- tion. One must avoid the glowing lava, not try to swim in it. "There's only one question," he said. "Why did God or nature bestow on H O'lno sapi- ens such an abundance of emotions! What is their biological function? Neither Plato nor Spinoza nor Scho- penhauer could really answer this." Almost two hours had passed and Dr. Levantes was still pouring out his erudition The room became filled with coils of cigar smoke. I imagined that the smoke came not only from the Doctor's mouth and nostrils but also from his hairy ears, his beard, and even from behind his vest, as if he were burning in his interior. When I finally left, my knees had become shaky and I was dizzy. I opened the door to the street and breathed in deep the frosty air, and there was Machla Krumbein. She stood at a store win- dow that was warmed by small gas flames to keep it from freezing over. I touched her shoulder and she started. I asked her if she had been waiting out- side the entire time. Her face was white from the cold, but her eyes lit up with the joy of a young girl. "So what?" she said. "I